


Once Upon a Final Page

by iammisscullen



Category: One Direction, Zarry - Fandom
Genre: M/M, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:12:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammisscullen/pseuds/iammisscullen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry went to the bookstore to buy a book, he didn't know that he'd get more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Final Page

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when someone spends too much time on Tumblr. Enjoy! :) xx

_‘Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn’t the way they actually are.’_ – _John Green_

It was a nice Saturday morning, a bit sunny and Harry loved it. The weather seemed to be in line with his mood as he walked down the street to his favourite bookstore. It was only half pass ten and the store wasn’t pack yet because usually the customers come in the afternoon. Everybody seemed to move slower on weekends, but not Harry. He was too excited to do his book shopping this weekend that he couldn’t wait for the weekdays to be over. He had come late because he had to do some errand for his Mum, not that he minded.

          As he entered the store, the silence and the warm smell of old and new books filled his lungs and he couldn’t feel more at home. He doesn’t know if obsessing over books was a fetish but either way he was fine with it. He ran his fingertips delicately over the spine of some books by the shelf, near the door. It sent that tingly feeling in him, like a shopaholic running her hand over a cashmere sweater − the satisfaction that only those who were passionate about a thing or a person can understand. And that was how Harry felt about books.

          It should be weird, really, to want books as if they were drugs. Well, to him they were heroin and cocaine, but a safe illegal medication that he couldn’t get enough of. He said a quick _Hello_ to Liam, the kind employee of the bookstore and the other boy said back a _Hello_ as well.

          ‘Are there any new books?’ Harry inquired, leaning on the counter and running a hand through his messy curls. He looked at the boy and as he waited for Liam’s answer, Harry looked around the store to count a total of four people in the store – excluding him and Liam.

          ‘They’re arriving tomorrow Harry,’ Liam answered in that sympathetic voice. They were already friends so the conversation wasn’t formal. Besides that, Harry liked Liam very much because the boy was just lovely and very kind. Not to mention that Liam was fucking fit because he goes to the gym, as Niall (another store employee) had mentioned once.

          Harry wasn’t gay or maybe he was but he also liked girls as much as he liked boys and he had tried – so many times – to flirt with Liam but it was all in vain. At first he thought that Liam was straight but Harry soon discovered – more like observed – that the other boy was not interested because of Niall. Harry doesn’t know what the status of the boys’ relationship was but they seemed to be happy to be in each other’s company. And that was when Harry stopped hitting on Liam. But he still does it at times when the sandy haired boy with brown dopey eyes was in his snugly fit, white polo uniform. Harry can’t help it. The contour of Liam’s chiseled body was just too hard to resist.

          ‘I found the list Liam,’ Niall said loudly, catching the other four customers’ attention. He had emerged from the door behind the till, that Harry assumed to be a stock room or an employee area or maybe both.

          ‘Keep your voice down Nialler,’ Liam scolded the Irish lad with blonde hair. Niall just shrugged in response and Liam released a deep sigh of defeat.

          Harry smiled, amused at the interaction between the two. He might not know them very well but they looked adorable together. What was that cliché description about two people acting like old married couple? Because Niall and Liam were just like that.

          ‘Hi Harry.’ The Irish lad beamed him a smile that Harry reciprocated. ‘Waz up?’ Harry’s always curious how Niall managed to have that perfect American accent.

          ‘Fine,’ Harry answered. ‘You?’

          ‘Never been better,’ Niall said proudly that made Liam rolled his eyes in the fondest manner. Niall was always in good mood no matter what and Harry liked that about him because the world was already too dreadful to add more misery. And maybe – Harry surmised – that was what Liam liked about Niall as well, his buoyant aura that balanced Liam’s seriousness. They were indeed perfect for each other.

          ‘Are you here for more books?’ Niall asked Harry, putting a piece of paper on the counter.

          ‘What else will he be here for Niall?’ Liam said before Harry could reply. The shock in Niall’s face made Liam smirked.

          Niall raised an eyebrow at the older boy and looked surprised to be hearing some banter from him. ‘Maybe to see you,’ he threw back at Liam. Harry blushed because he didn’t know that Niall was keen about those kind of things. ‘You and your _glorious_ biceps.’ The smirk on Liam’s face disappeared and a deep blush took its place. Niall’s the one looking smug now.

          ‘Okay,’ Harry said, helping Liam – and himself – out of the awkwardness that Niall had hovered over them. Harry knew Liam, now looking away and staring into some papers, would never have a comeback for that because he was the shy type. It also stunned Harry that the oldest boy managed to give at least one, proper banter. ‘Later boys,’ he told the two lads behind the counter and headed off to the shelves containing fiction.

          Even with his eyes closed, Harry can still navigate himself inside the bookstore. He knew it by heart so it was easy for him to find the shelf holding the books that he loved. And carefully – like touching a baby’s cheek – he let his long and pale fingertips wander upon the neat rows of pristine spines. He was only buying two books today since the new stock would be arriving tomorrow.

          He picked out a copy of _Bridge to Terabithia_ by Katherine Paterson. It was the first book he had bought with his own money – his savings – when he was 9 years old. His Mum didn’t approve of spending his money on books but he insisted and in the end he was able to own one. And he felt like the happiest kid in the entire planet. He also felt like an independent boy, being able to buy his own book.

          That was how his childhood was spent. Other kids fell out of trees and got scars – battle scars as they have insisted – while Harry stayed in the safety of his room, lying on his chintzy (his Mum’s idea) counterpane and read about heroes who don’t get marred by falling from trees but instead from fighting dragons and ogres. He has always been the audience and never the participant because things were better read than done at times. And at this time he was contented because his Mum had been buying him the books that he liked.

          But his happiness over Patterson’s book didn’t last long when she decided to kill Leslie Burke, one of the main characters in the book. Harry cried of course, because what was a nine year-old supposed to understand about death? And at those weeping moments, he felt connected to Jesse Aarons − the major character − not because Harry had been in the same situation but because he was also young like Jesse and couldn’t comprehend why things like death happened.

          Harry was smiling as he put down the book back to its place. He was naïve back then, and even after reading a hundred of books, he still was.

          He moved to the teen fiction section. Most of the covers were in black because when _The Twilight Saga_ became a huge hit, it paved the way for the supernatural genre books. He fished _Twilight_ from the shelf and remembered how his Mum and Gemma, his sister, would go to the cinema all together every year to watch the movie installments of the books. But everything has its end, just like _Twilight_ , those annual cinema viewing – with the three of them –ended as well. Wholly because Gemma had to go to uni, so it was just him and their Mum now, that goes to the cinema to watch any movie that would interest them both. But of course, it was never the same.

          Just like the famous motion picture, _The Twilight Saga_ , some parts of Harry’s life needed to come to an end as well, so new parts could be added. Things change like in cinemas so it could make way to new films. As human would often complain about change, they craved for it because people in nature were erratic. Things should always be different, it should be consistently evolving. But sometimes, as he had heard from _Gossip Girl_ (Gemma made him watch the series with her because it was suppose to be their _bonding_ time when she was home), _The more things change, the more it stays the same,_ Harry recalled it something to be from the French.

          Is that what was happening to his life then? Was he really chasing change so much that somehow it was running away from him completely? It must be some sort of ironic imbalance by the universe that when you run after something it ran away from you. Kind of shitty and fucked up if you asked him, not to mention unfair.

          ‘Everything is…actually,’ a deep voice said and Harry’s head turned to the person who spoke. And nothing in the world could have prepared him for the majesty he would behold at that moment.

          But it was odd to see such boy in the bookstore – with his white tank top underneath a black leather jacket, black tight skinny jeans, combat boots, pierced ears with dark studs, and Harry didn’t miss the tattoo sticking out of the boy’s collar bone. The sexy (it was an understatement, to be honest, because the word itself cannot simply fully grasp the presence of the dark haired boy standing next to Harry) punk tattooed lad was indeed clearly out of place, if you wanted Harry’s opinion. He doesn’t stereotype but he can’t help himself at times.

          ‘Excuse me?’ Harry asked, looking around him, making sure that the boy with seraphic face and cheekbones that screams: ‘If you slap me, you’ll cut yourself’ – literally – was talking to him.

          ‘You said “unfair”,’ the boy with black – like watermelon seed black – hair answered.

          Harry didn’t notice that he had said something out loud and that he must have said it after picking up Nicholas Sparks’ _Dear John_.

          Embarrassed by acting weird again, and this time in front of a very attractive boy, Harry returned _Dear John_ to its place on the shelf as he tried to stop himself from blushing. But besides that, he was also having a hard time stopping himself from jolting out of the door because of too much humiliation.

          ‘I’m Zayn by the way,’ the boy informed, smiling at him and Harry wanted to believe that Zayn’s the one hanging the moon and stars at night that Harry had grown to love.

          Harry muttered to himself mutely that he must introduce himself as well. His chaotic mind only fared to make his hand move as he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous mannerism that he was unconscious of unless someone pointed it out. But what was a boy got to do when he was up against a reincarnation of Adonis that made perfect with lovely hazel eyes being draped by long lashes. It would be hard to form coherent words when _Zayn_ (Goodness! Even his name was bloody beautiful, Harry thought ) was looking at him like that, the way Harry would look at a new book − like a new discovery, new knowledge, new adventure, new story to tell − something both interesting and lovely. New books were like that to Harry, as delicious as his favorite Cookies n’Cream gelato yet, as healthy as a vegetable salad.

          ‘What’s your name beautiful?’ Zayn asked him and Harry’s heart sunk. It was such a cliché pick-up line that he wondered just how many girls or blokes Zayn had used it to. It annoyed Harry more than it should be. Well, maybe because he had cut Zayn a chance despite the lad’s appearance (nothing was wrong with Zayn’s face, for it yelled godly perfection, but rather his clothing). But then the older lad – as Harry concluded that Zayn was older between them in spite of Harry being a few inches taller – goes and say the most overused phrase in the guidebook of How To Pick-up Cute Strangers You Are Interested In From Random Places. It was definitely a turn off situation for Harry.

          Why can’t Zayn be different from the others Harry had encountered? It was not like he was demanding someone who’ll find John Grisham’s lawyer-y novels interesting as they both try to discuss how the main character would win the juries’ sympathy. He wasn’t forcing the Fates to make Zayn into someone who appreciated International Bestseller books, but it would have been fine if the other lad fancied simple books like _Hunting Unicorns_. But no, Zayn has to be a freaking twat who visited bookstores for _Swimsuit Sports Illustrated_ magazine and suddenly saw a nice lad who looked like to be someone dumb enough to say yes to a quick shag. And at that moment, Harry loathed Zayn so much. The curly haired lad was willing to hit the other with J.K. Rowling’s _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_.

          Harry had to look away from the row of _Harry Potter_ books, afraid he might do pick one up and bat Zayn with it, especially now that the boy was smirking on him. Harry has to admit though, Zayn looked even more breath-taking when the lad’s being cocky. And it shouldn’t be fair to have an urge to maim someone and love them at the same time. The universe must be really mocking him because Harry’s eyes drifted to _50 Shades Of Grey_. Of course, BDSM was the answer to Harry’s question.

          Harry knew he shouldn’t ogle over at Zayn because the boy was a complete twat. But then as he saw _50 Shades Of Grey_ , he was reminded of Christian Grey (Harry will never look at Jamie Dorman the same way again in _Once Upon A Time_ TV series). Inside his head, he wasn’t sure if it was Zayn who’d be tied up on the bed or it was him. Part of him wanted it to be Zayn, but then there was this image of the other lad with a whip as Zayn stared at him lustfully and that caused him great dilemma.

          ‘What?’ Harry shook his head, blocking the obscene imagination from his mind as he noticed that Zayn had said something, which Harry had missed because he had been busy imagining Zayn tied on the bed, whimpering beneath him, saying his name in a begging voice full of lust and want, and…

          Harry shook his head again. It was all E.L. James’ fault and her hot character Christian fucking Grey.

          ‘I said, would you like me to buy you a book?’ There was that amused smile again on Zayn’s lips and dear Zeus of Olympus, the lad’s biting his lower lip! Harry wanted to reprimand Zayn to stop being such a fucking tease, it was already not fair that the boy looked like an ad for sex.

          Harry felt like he had just rode the roller coaster that suddenly went down from a tall peek. He was extremely taken aback by what Zayn had said. Did Harry heard Zayn right? Did Zayn just, seriously, offered to buy him a book? The question was so randomly weird that Harry had a hard time to process it.

          ‘If you’re so fond of Sparks’ and I’m sure you’ve read _A Walk To Remember_ ,’ Zayn said, Harry’s mind still wasn’t able to wrap at what was happening. ‘You’ll love this.’ Zayn plucked out a sky blue covered book and presented it to Harry.

          Harry still couldn’t grasp everything. Zayn − looking like a sinfully angelic misfit in the bookstore with his rugged attire − was offering him a book, with a bizarre yet intriguing title. But as always, there was a catch. So what was it for Zayn? Harry wanted to know, he doesn’t want to jump into an abyss that he would regret later.

          He had always heard their mother lecture Gemma about boys who give flowers, chocolates, or any gift. His Mum had labeled courtship as prostitution. Anne, their Mum, had explained to Gemma that once a boy gave you something, he would be expecting something in return. Harry thought it’d be those famous four letter words, but then they don’t live in movies or books. The world has become too modern and exploiting for men to be wanting something innocent and pure like love when, what they really craved for was sex.

          Maybe not everybody was sex-drive, as to what his Mum had painted most of the male population were. But his Mum did have a point. Most people give because they want something in return. Nothing was free nowadays, except maybe for the air that was filling Harry’s lungs.

          So what does Zayn wanted?

          If Harry accepted it, it was like saying yes to Zayn and whatever _favour_ the boy wanted in return. It was already bad news that Zayn seemed like the black sheep of his family, despite that he has a great taste for Nicholas Sparks. His Mum told Gemma to never trust beautiful boys with sexy tousled hair because they’ll break your heart. And his Mum should have warned him as well.

          Did his Mum really said that or has he read it from Tumblr? He wasn’t sure and it doesn’t matter so much at the moment.

          ‘Not interested mate,’ Harry said politely with a small smile. His heart sighed sadly because, fuck it, he had just turned down the most attractive boy that had ever walked planet Earth. If only Zayn was broccoli and not a hamburger. If only Zayn was healthy and not dangerous. Harry doesn’t gamble and Zayn’s definitely a huge risk.

          Boiling puppies would have been a better option for Harry at that moment than seeing Zayn’s crestfallen face. Even Harry’s own heart was scolding him for putting that sad mask on the boy’s face – Zayn still looked like he was one of the Cullens. Harry didn’t know if he should tolerate his rebellious heart or be angry with it because, how could it be disloyal to him when it was living inside _his_ chest, not Zayn’s, so why was it taking the boy’s side?

          ‘Okay then.’ Zayn tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘See you around yeah?’

          As Zayn left him, Harry’s the one feeling depressed now. That was it? He wanted to demand Zayn. Harry can’t believe that the older boy would just give up. Those things don’t happen in books. In movies. The hero _always_ continued to pursue the girl even if she had said no because things were complicated.

          Maybe Zayn was no hero. Or maybe Harry has to realize that they were not in books or movies but living in the real world.

**

          Harry bought two books that day and paid for it at the till. He chatted a bit with Liam and Niall and went home. Deep down, Harry was hoping that Zayn was waiting for him outside of the bookstore. Maybe Zayn would try to say lines from songs to make Harry say yes to lunch with the older lad. But there was no Zayn − as Harry had imagined the boy to be leaning by the door with that same beautiful smile – outside waiting for Harry. And he knew that it was the end of that short _fling_. It wasn’t even one.

          Harry walked back home and proceeded to his room immediately to read his books. It was only after he was getting his new books out that he noticed that Liam had placed three books inside his plastic bag, instead of two. Harry wondered if Liam has mistaken but he doubted it because the boy was organized. Liam’s carefulness can be compared to a brilliant military General, making a battle plan.

          But as Harry looked at the book, he realized that it was the same one that Zayn had offered to buy him. Was it coincidence?

          As he opened the book there was a post-it on the first leaf.

_Harry, I’m sorry but Zayn told me to do this._

_He’s not a bad guy, just want you to know._

_Enjoy the book! :)_

_-Liam_

_P.S. He already paid for this._

          Harry laughed out loud because he didn’t expect that Zayn would actually buy him a book and not wanting anything in return. It saddened Harry that he might never see Zayn again because he was going to uni by fall. It was only a few weeks away. So it would be impossible to meet Zayn once more. Harry won’t admit it – hated to admit it – but he wished to see Zayn again.

          Harry stared at the book and pondered again, how amusing it was to be flirted with by a gorgeous boy and got a free book with no string attached. It was like, he went to a bar and someone offered to buy him a drink, in his case though it was a book. And Harry thought it was kind of sweet, the kind where a cute unknown boy opened a door for you and you weren’t expecting it. Zayn was unlike any other and Harry’s sad he didn’t give the lad a second chance. Everybody deserved a second chance, right?

Christians said that Jesus give people hundred chances every day. If only humans were like that, the world would have been a better place. If only Harry wasn’t so human. Maybe next time – if there will be a next time – Harry wanted it to be different.

Harry was very disappointed to miss such a good catch like Zayn. He remembered that pretty girl who fancied him from a party, her name was Eleanor. She undauntedly went to him and his friends in a party and confidently said, ‘So what house are you from? I’m from Slytherin.’

For Harry’s friends it was a weird approach but to him, it was the best pick up line ever said. But then, the thing was, he wasn’t in the spirit to commit in a relationship during those times, though he did keep in touch with her because it was rare to find a Potterhead like her. And as of the current news, she was dating this huge Harry Potter fan named Louis Tomlinson. Harry’s happy for her. At last she has found someone who deserved her and her witty personality.

There might not be a lot of people in the world that had minds like Eleanor and Zayn. Harry’s remembering _that_ boy again, the one that hit on him by offering to buy him a book. Now, that was the most bizarre yet sweetest thing that someone had ever done to flirt with someone and Harry just threw an opportunity to go out with an awesome boy.

Harry stopped himself from being melancholic because regretting won’t do him any good. He just hated that regrets were always at the end of things. But maybe Zayn’s book (that was what it was now) might turn his mood around. He’ll try, even if the title didn’t look so joyful at all.

Hours had passed and Harry’s cursing John Green, the book’s writer. Harry’s cheeks were wet from his tears and his nose was a bit red from all the crying. He wiped the water in his eyes with Kleenex. He didn’t know if who he was going to blame at the moment: Zayn for giving him such a heart-wrenching plot or John Green for writing a very sad story. He decided to condemn the former because he was simply awed how Green was able to make him cry. Not a lot of authors can do that.

Just when Harry turned to last two pages of the book, he noticed that the last page of the story was missing. It had been ripped and on its place was a note saying:

_If you want the final page, call this number _02-558-094-096__

_-Zayn_

Once again, Harry laughed out loud because he certainly wasn’t expecting that move. He never knew it was possible to play hostage situations in such scenario. And one more time he was confused on what to feel, to be angry because Zayn tricked him, or be amused that the lad never gave up on him and did something out of the usual just for Harry to call. Harry has no choice because he wanted to know how the story ended and he was thinking that he was very fond of Zayn now and all the boy’s crazy (yet effective and affectionate) ways to make Harry fall for him, as if Harry’s not yet bewitched by Zayn’s extraordinary charm.

If anyone was looking for an attractive face with a dose of cheekiness and a brilliant taste for books – though very angst – then Zayn was their guy. And Harry’s excited to find out more about Zayn, the boy who was the irony of himself in the real life. Harry was reminded of that saying that sometimes there was more to the book despite its cover, like there was more to a person than meets the eye. So maybe it wasn’t bad to jump into the unknown once in a while, especially if that unknown was Zayn and he was holding the final page of _The Fault in Our Stars_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you for reading! Feel free to leave comments (good or bad) and kudos! Ciao! :) xx


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